


cover me in roses, cover me in pearls

by BrenH



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Friends to Lovers, Haikyuu Angst Week 2020, Hanahaki Disease, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Pining, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:09:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27357043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrenH/pseuds/BrenH
Summary: It’s not that he’s an idiot. It’s not that he didn’t know he was in love with his best friend, it isn’t that he thought Iwa returned his feelings. It’s just that he didn’t think it would come to this, was hoping he could continue to avoid acknowledging what he already knew was true. That he’s in love with Iwaizumi, and that Iwaizumi doesn’t love him the same. He knew that, thought he’d come to terms with pining for the rest of his life, but now he’s choking on his own ridiculous feelings, will suffocate on them if he doesn’t do something about it.or, the one where Oikawa contracts Hanahaki disease.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 10
Kudos: 216





	cover me in roses, cover me in pearls

**Author's Note:**

> Hanahaki disease; the victim of unrequited or one-sided love begins to vomit or cough up the petals and flowers of a flowering plant growing in their lungs, which will eventually grow large enough to render breathing impossible if left untreated. 
> 
> this is my first attempt at haikyuu fic and i wrote it on a whim in a few hours so... hope it lives up to expectations!
> 
> title from cover me in roses by holden laurence

He chides himself for being surprised at all the first time it happens. They’re in the middle of practice, and he’s lucky no one else notices. Not that they  _ don’t  _ notice when their captain starts choking on nothing on the sidelines, it’s that they don’t  _ realize. _ When Oikawa feels his throat close up, not around nothing, but  _ something _ , and he starts coughing, he’s quick to cover his mouth with his sweat-drenched towel, holding his water bottle up Hanamaki as if to say  _ It’s just the water _ before running off to the change room. He refuses to look at Iwaizumi, who stops in the middle of his approach to one of Yahaba’s sets to watch him,  _ concerned _ . That’s the last thing he needs right now.

He barely manages to lock himself in a stall when he starts dry heaving. The unfamiliar and unexpected feeling in his throat making him involuntarily tear up. He doesn’t let the tears escape until he sees the soft blue petals and torn flowers scattered on and around the toilet.

He sits there a few minutes more, coughing until he can figure out how to breath around the flower stuck in his throat, trying not to think about what it  _ means _ . Trying not to think about how he should have seen this coming. When he does emerge, he stands in front of the sink, washing the tear tracks off his face, making a point of looking presentable, like he hasn’t just come to the painful realization that he has to accept a truth he already knew.

“Um… Oikawa-san?” He glances up at the sound, sees Kindaichi in the mirror standing hesitantly by the entrance, shifting from foot to foot nervously, “Coach wants to have a quick meeting to talk about our next match, if you’re okay now?” 

Oikawa puts on a bright smile, addresses Kindaichi only in the mirror as he tells him he’ll be right there, and waits for him to leave. He takes another minute to himself, breathing heavily, before standing up, smacking his hands on both cheeks and walking back out into the gymnasium. 

He jogs up to the semi-circle his team has formed, ignoring Mattsun and Hanamaki’s snickers that die off with a quick glare from Iwaizumi. He notices curious glances from his teammates, but they shrug his behavior off quickly enough. He pretends to listen, knows he should, but he can’t focus. Just breathing takes an astronomical effort right now, let alone keeping his hands from shaking, or trying to hold back a cough as the petals itch and tickle his throat. When Coach dismisses them, he responds just as everyone else, the words falling out of his mouth on instinct. He quickly apologizes to his teammates, saying he’s not feeling well and is going to head home immediately, saying he knows he can trust his underclassmen to clean up properly without their beloved captain monitoring them, and he slips into the changeroom again once he’s met with a satisfactory amount of groans and well-wishes. 

He’s nearly fully showered and changed when he starts coughing again. He manages to keep most of it back, only a single petal falling from his mouth. His shirt lies forgotten on the bench next to him as he catches it, staring at the blue petal. He doesn’t recognize the flower, tries to pretend he doesn’t care but knows he’ll be figuring it out by the end of the night anyway. He just sits there hunched over, stroking the petal between his thumb and forefinger, losing track of time until a hand slaps him on the back. Not as hard as it could be, but it stings, especially without the barrier of a shirt between them. His fist closes around the petal, hiding it as well as he crushes it, and jumps from the bench. He whirls around to find Iwaizumi, raised eyebrow and all, standing behind the bench, one towel hanging around his waist while he rubs another one into his hair. 

Oikawa squacks indignantly, pretends the flush on his face is from indignation as well. “The hell was  _ that _ for?” 

Iwaizumi shrugs, walking over to the locker where his change of clothes is. “You’ve been sitting there since before I showered.” 

Oikawa grumbles something about  _ so mean to me  _ as he nabs his shirt from where it’s fallen on the floor. He pulls it on, turning to his locker as he shoves the crushed petal into his pocket. He grabs the rest of his things from his locker, pausing only slightly before deciding not to wait for Iwa today. 

It doesn’t end up mattering. 

Shortly after leaving the gym, just as he’s beginning his walk home, Iwaizumi slides up next to him, hair still slightly damp from his shower. “You know Iwa-chan, you’ll catch a cold walking around with your hair wet like that.” 

He scoffs, falling into step next to Oikawa. “Worry about your own health, Loserkawa. Do you have a fever or something? You’ve been acting strange all day.” 

“Aw Iwa-chan, you  _ do _ care!” Oikawa sighs, leaning forward to drape himself over Iwaizumi. His momentum has already shifted, past the tipping point when Iwaizumi steps away from him, leaving him to stumble into empty air. 

His breath audibly hitches as the world tips forward further, the pavement rushing up to meet him. His arms are already coming forward to brace for his inevitable impact, when a strong arm loops around his waist, catching him as the air is knocked out of his lungs. “Wow you really  _ are _ out of it today.” Oikawa glances up, levels a glare at his friend that he knows won’t intimidate him. Instead he’s met with furrowed brows and a deep concern in brown eyes that makes Oikawa’s throat tingle. “Need me to walk you home today?”

Oikawa stands, straightening out his jacket as he huffs. “So now Iwa-chan wants to be a gentleman. I see how it is.” 

“I’m being serious, Oikawa.” 

When he glances at his friend, he sees that the concern hasn’t left his face, and Oikawa bites his lip to stop himself from calling him  _ cute  _ to his face with his eyebrows pulled down and his nose scrunched up. He pretends he’s considering the offer, one long finger tapping his pursed lips. “You can walk me home, but  _ only _ if—” he turns, jabs his finger right in Iwaizumi’s face, poking at the wrinkles on his forehead— “you hold my hand the whole way.” Iwa rolls his eyes, batting Oikawa’s hand out of his face. He grumbles something Oikawa doesn’t catch, ducking his face away to hide the faint blush dusting his cheeks. “I didn’t catch that,” Oikawa grins sweetly.

Iwaizumi doesn’t say anything, just takes Oikawa’s hand in his own, rougher, calloused hand and laces their fingers together before he begins walking with him. Oikawa hums happily, swinging their arms between them. 

It’s not that this is the first time they’ve done this, they would hold hands all the time as kids. They still did from time to time, but usually it was Oikawa pulling Iwaizumi along somewhere, rarely ever just holding hands. The few times he’s done it recently, Iwa blushed so prettily it made up for how he would pull his hand away quickly, telling Oikawa they weren’t kids anymore and people would see them, would  _ say  _ something about it. Oikawa would hold his tongue instead of telling his friend that he would like nothing more than for people to see them holding hands, to make assumptions about them. He knew if he admitted that, Iwaizumi wouldn’t allow him the few precious times when they would hold hands like this, like their hands fit together perfectly, like they were made to hold each other.

The burning in his lungs and throat reminds him that that’s not the case.

When they make it to Oikawa’s house, Iwaizumi gently pulls his hand free, shoving it in his pocket as Oikawa unlocks the door. He shakes his head at Oikawa’s offer of coming inside and instead reminds him to drink water and get some rest, tells him not to come to practice if he’s not feeling well.

“But you’re the captain so you better be there, which means you  _ better  _ take care of yourself.” He warns, slightly glaring.

Oikawa laughs, hand on the doorknob. “You sure, Iwa-chan doesn’t want to play nurse for me?”

Iwaizumi seems to relax at the teasing, shoulders loosening even as his glare gets harder, more exasperated. This is a game they’ve played enough times for Oikawa to know he isn’t really mad. They say their goodbyes, and Oikawa stays standing in the doorway until he loses sight of Iwa in the darkness, waits a minute longer to see if he can catch a glimpse of him in a streetlight before he steps into his home, toeing his shoes off. 

He manages to greet his parents, get through dinner and conversation, makes it all way the way to his room before he feels the smile slip from his face. 

It’s not that he’s an idiot. It’s not that he didn’t  _ know  _ he was in love with his best friend, it isn’t that he thought Iwa returned his feelings. It’s just that he didn’t think it would come to  _ this _ , was hoping he could continue to avoid acknowledging what he already knew was true. That he’s in love with Iwaizumi, and that Iwaizumi doesn’t love him the same. He knew that, thought he’d come to terms with pining for the rest of his life, but now he’s choking on his own ridiculous feelings, will suffocate on them if he doesn’t do something about it. 

The problem is there isn’t really anything he  _ can  _ do about it. It’s an impossible situation. If he hasn’t been able to make Iwaizumi reciprocate his feelings over the past years, he won’t be able to do it in the next few months. The other option is surgery, he knows, could have the flower surgically removed from his lungs, along with these cursed feelings. But he doesn’t  _ want  _ that; he loves Iwaizumi and he was okay with that until now. Now he’s lying on his bed, trying to find where his platonic love for his best friend ends and the romantic feelings begin and he  _ can’t _ , and he’s terrified that without one he’d lose the other too. 

He thinks losing Iwaizumi would kill him just as surely as the flowers would.

When he starts coughing again, he holds onto the petals, spreads them out on his desk to figure out what exactly they are. It takes him a bit, tries researching on his own but he doesn’t know enough about flowers to really tell them apart or figure out where to start, so he caves and posts pictures in an anonymous forum asking for help. 

He regrets it the moment the expressions of condolences come in, telling him they’ve been there before too, and he doesn’t care, doesn’t want to hear it. He just wants to know what the flower is for his own peace of mind, he doesn’t need the pity. Eventually, someone responds saying they think it’s an amaryllis, and a few more pop in supporting their claim. They’re the only one Oikawa makes a point to respond to, thanking them for their help before closing the tab and intending on never returning. 

It’s a pretty flower. He’s not sure what to do with that. He tries for self-gratifying, because of  _ course _ it’s pretty, it’s growing inside of  _ him  _ after all. When all that does is remind him of the ache in his throat he tries for scholastic instead. Looks up the meaning and symbolism of the flower that’s killing him, and when he finds people saying it means  _ pride _ and  _ devotion  _ and  _ determination _ , he skims over the story of it’s name and quickly decides to switch tracks, tries to make his pain poetic. Mulling over how something so beautiful could be so deadly, how he’s choking on the love he can’t have. How the petals that fall from his mouth are reminiscent of a game he’d play as a child, as if instead of coughs they were accompanied by whispers of  _ he loves me, he loves me not.  _ Except this time, each petal only reinforces that he  _ doesn’t _ , that there’s Oikawa’s love and Oikawa’s love alone.

He slams his laptop shut, head falling into his hands as he shakes. It’s a pretty flower, and everything about it is deadly to him.

He sighs, running rough hands through his hair and tugging. He has time to figure things out, but he doesn’t want to talk about it with anyone else. It’s  _ embarrassing _ . He’s sure someone’s picked up on his little crush already, doesn’t really care but  _ this _ … this is something else. He doesn’t want pity, doesn’t want condolences, but he’s not going to be getting what he truly wants so he doesn’t know what to do.

He decides for now he won’t do anything, he’ll continue as normal. He’ll keep this to himself until he can’t, and he’ll pretend nothings wrong when it is, and if Iwaizumi keeps acting all concerned and careful with him well that’s a bittersweet win anyway, isn’t it. 

The weeks after seem to blur together, and it doesn’t take long for him to realize that maybe he can’t keep doing this. He carries a medical mask in his bag, just in case, wears it on particularly bad days and grimaces as the petals collect inside of it, rubbing at his mouth, threatening to fall back in and choke him all over again. He thinks he does a decent enough job at hiding it, no one asks, and he doesn’t tell. He’s sure someone in the bathroom has caught sight of a petal he didn’t catch in time, connected it to him, but didn’t speak a word. Between classes he coughs some up and a first year offers him a tissue, bright eyes concerned but understanding as she promises she won’t say anything. Her sister had this  _ condition  _ too, she knows how bad it can get. He gives her a tight smile, eyes flicking back and forth to make sure no one is seeing them, thanks her for the tissue and leaves, textbook forgotten in his locker. 

Practice is the worst, as it always was even before all this. Iwaizumi is beautiful, form perfect when he spikes, tanned skin shining with sweat from a good workout. He knows he stares longer than he should, but he always has, and no one is going to comment unless it’s Iwaizumi himself to which Oikawa would make up some teasing excuse and it would be forgotten. He can’t wear a mask here, not while he’s running and working up a sweat, so if he disappears more often than normal to dispose of the evidence, he’s only met with slight concern that’s waved off immediately.

Oikawa sighs heavily, fanning himself slightly where he, Matsukawa, and Hanamaki are off to the side, taking a short break between drills. Oikawa’s eyes follow Iwaizumi as he hits another spike, his form as immaculate as ever. He turns to his two friends, chatting quietly amongst each other, “How can I make Iwa-chan fall in love with me?”

They both pause in their conversation, something unspoken passing between them before they simultaneously turn to Oikawa.

“You can’t.”

“There’s no way.”

Oikawa huffs, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he pouts. “And why not?”

Mattsun snickers and Hanamaki rolls his eyes, grinning. “You mean, despite the obvious?” the latter supplies, and Mattsun laughs harder, trying to muffle the sound in his hand. 

Oikawa huffs again, turning away from them with his nose turned up, feigning hurt in his voice. “You are all so mean to me. I don’t know what I’ve ever done to deserve this treatment.” 

“I don’t know what  _ we _ did to deserve being asked that.” Mattsun points out. He glances over at Iwaizumi briefly, then back at Oikawa. “Besides, you're not  _ seriously  _ asking, are you?”

Now it’s Oikawa’s turn to scoff and roll his eyes, though his is more practiced, faked for their benefit. “Of course not.” 

“Then we don’t have to wrack our brains trying to come up with another answer,” Hanamaki shrugs, slings an arm over his shoulder as he starts dragging Oikawa back onto the court with Mattsun trailing behind them. 

Oikawa drops it, and so do they. He crosses another option off of his mental  _ List of Drastic Measures  _ and makes a point to spend the rest of their practice with the first and second years. 

He gets on with his life. He practices, hard, tries not to let his  _ condition _ get too in the way. He goes to school, practices, studies, hangs out with his friends as if everything is normal. It isn’t. Nothing changes, nothing improves, and he tells himself that he should have seen this coming because it wasn’t like he was  _ doing  _ anything about it anyway. They practice, they play games, and they lose to Karasuno and he lets that pain carry him, distract him from the pain in his throat and heart. 

When he runs into Kageyama again, his nephew groans and walks away to talk to a friend his own age about how his uncle Tooru is picking another fight. He lets the frustration wash over him, distracting him as he argues with his  _ precious  _ underclassmen, and for a few minutes it’s like the world is normal again.

When he starts coughing, he panics, turning away from Kageyama’s prying eyes. When he keeps coughing though, it doesn’t matter what he does because Kageyama circles him just in time to watch a petal fall from his mouth. He stands there, eyes wide, arm still outstretched like he was going to check if Oikawa was okay, but now he’s frozen but for his eyes that follow the petal’s slow descent to the ground.

Oikawa’s voice is soft, but there’s a sharp edge to it when he starts, “Tobio-chan—“

“I’m sorry,” Kgeyama blurts out, interrupting him. His arm falls to his side as he stares blankly at Oikawa. “Who—“

“ _ Don’t,”  _ Oikawa snaps, throat still aching from his coughing fit. “I don’t want to hear it Tobio, and I’m not talking to  _ you  _ about this, so  _ don’t. _ ”

Kageyama’s mouth opens again, but it seems for once he’s chosen to listen as he closes it again, nodding slowly. His eyes flit between Oikawa and the petals, but he doesn’t speak again until Oikawa brushes past him to grab Takeru and  _ leave _ . “I am sorry, Oikawa, I hope—“ Oikawa glares at him over his shoulder, pace not slowing in the slightest. Kageyama bows his head. “Get well soon Oikawa-san.”

He spends two months like this; pretending things are fine and normal when they decidedly  _ aren’t _ . He has close calls, he’s nearly caught by Mad Dog, and every day makes him more frustrated and lonely. Because as much as he loves Iwaizumi, as much as he told himself this wouldn’t change things because he always  _ knew _ , he’s been pushing him away consistently because anyone else in the world can find out about his predicament so long as it isn’t  _ Iwaizumi _ . He knows it’s not as subtle as he wishes, knows that people are starting to catch on that he’s harassing Iwa-chan less. Hopes they think it’s Iwa, not  _ him  _ that has the problem, but that’s never the case and he knows it. Hopes everyone will just chalk it up to another one of his  _ moods _ , and they do, even Iwaizumi, the one person equipped to harass Oikawa back over them.

When after practice he’s the last one at the gym, ready to lock everything up and Iwaizumi is still there, waiting, he knows he’s in trouble. 

“Aw, Iwa-chan decided to wait for me?” Oikawa teases, grinning widely and laying the back of one hand delicately on his forehead. “My knight in shining armor here to walk me home? How chivalrous.” He deftly finishes locking up as he speaks, trying to hide his nerves or how his hand shakes as he pulls the keys back.

“Cut the crap, Shittykawa. You’ve been avoiding me, you’ve been acting weird, I’m worried,  _ everyone _ is worried. Even Kyotani asked me to check up on you.” 

Oikawa freezes for a moment, before calmly sliding the keys back into his pocket and turning to face Iwaizumi properly. He’s standing, arms crossed over his chest with a stern look on his face that makes Oikawa want to tease him into either relaxing or yelling at him. “I’m fine, Iwa-chan, just a little under the weather lately,” He shrugs, smiling lightly.

Iwaizumi’s frown deepens as he steps closer, obviously seeing through the mask Oikawa’s put on. “You’re lying.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said ‘you’re lying.’ I know that you are, Oikawa, I don’t understand why you can’t just be honest with me here. I’m  _ worried  _ about you.” 

Oikawa scoffs, irritation rising as he crosses his arms too. “I don’t see why you can’t just take my word for it, Iwa-chan, if something were wrong I’d tell you.”

“I don’t believe you,” It’s softer than Iwaizumi has spoken all night, and Oikawa’s heart breaks a little at the  _ hurt  _ he sees there, even as his irritation remains. “I think any other time you  _ would _ but lately… you’re hiding something from me.”

“I love you, Iwa-chan.” 

He grits his teeth immediately after saying it, feels his body go cold at the admission. He doesn’t know why he said it, his frustration finally bubbling over. Telling Iwaizumi is the last thing he wants, the thing he’s been avoiding for  _ months  _ now, but maybe if he can get the inevitable heartbreak over with, he can finally move forward. Finally  _ do  _ something about it. That’s what he tells himself in the split second after saying it at least, and he immediately realizes that it isn’t that simple, but now that he’s started he can’t just  _ stop _ .

Iwaizumi frowns and sighs. “That’s not the point of this conversation, Stupidkawa. What’s going  _ on  _ with you? Got another fever, or something? What could you possibly have to hide from  _ me _ —”

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa cuts him off, setting his jaw. Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow at him, starts to roll his eyes, but Oikawa’s arms shoot out of their own volition, gripping his shoulders tightly to turn him to look Oikawa in the eyes. “Iwaizumi. Iwa-chan.  _ Hajime _ .” At the sound of his given name, Iwaizumi’s frown deepens, his eyes clouded with confusion, but he says nothing. Just waits patiently, listening intently to whatever Oikawa has to say further on the subject. “Look I—” he covers his mouth when his voice catches, afraid a petal will fall out and make Iwaizumi  _ realize _ , “I  _ love  _ you. An-and I know you don’t love me—”

“Oikawa—”

“No!” Oikawa shouts, wincing at the sound of his own voice, at the panic, the manic edge to it, even muffled slightly by his own hand before he lets it fall away. “You’re my best friend, always have been, and I know you  _ care  _ about me, as much as it eats at you. Trust me, I  _ know  _ that. But I  _ love  _ you.” He takes a second to breathe, has to tear his eyes away from Iwaizumi’s when understanding settles in them, can’t stand to have to see the pity he knows will be there. He takes a step back, arms falling limply to his sides as his voice drops to a whisper, “I love you, and I  _ know.  _ I know you don’t feel the same. And that’s okay, really I—it is. I know this is selfish of me to do but I… I had to tell you. Just once. We can pretend this never happened, but I wanted to say it just one time.” 

He nods to himself once he’s finished, still looking off to the side before he pivots on his heel and starts quickly striding away. He hears Iwaizumi call out to him, not any of the mean nicknames he’s given him in the past, just his name, and when he shouts “ _ Tooru!”  _ Oikawa makes a point to pick up the pace. He hears an aborted attempt to follow him, knows that in this, Iwaizumi won’t. 

He makes it all the way home before he breaks down in tears. 

He skips practice the next day. Class too. Doesn’t get out of the cocoon he’s made in his bed. A part of him hopes that Iwaizumi will skip class too, will notice he’s missing and come over to talk. He doesn’t make that part of him stop hoping, but he knows it won’t happen. He spends the day doing nothing, itches to play volleyball to calm his nerves but he can’t make himself walk further than the kitchen to eat. Spends the day in bed, tossing his ball up in the air again, and again, and again. 

Iwaizumi doesn’t come, and that small part of him is heartbroken, but the rest of him is relieved. Relieved to know that at the very least, he knows his Iwa-chan well enough to know when even he can’t follow. He has a few texts asking where he is, smiles slightly at Kunimi and Kindaichi expressing concern and well wishes, turns his phone off when he sees one from Mattsun saying Iwaizumi told them not to bother him today. 

He thinks about his options, doesn’t stop the tears from flowing as he decides what to do next. He has his life ahead of him, his volleyball career has barely even started, and it would be stupid to give it all up now over unrequited love. He’s too prideful for that. He remembers his words to Ushijima after Karasuno beat them, thinks that maybe he can use the spite to fuel his decisions; he can’t let Ushiwaka win. His worthless pride won’t let him. He snorts at the irony, remembering that the flower choking him now means  _ pride _ , thinks it’s fitting that this is the decision it comes to after all. He tries to placate himself, tells himself that maybe if he does get the surgery, things can go back to normal. Maybe he can play his confession off as a joke. 

He knows he can’t, knows he ruined his chances of removing these feelings and having things go back to normal, but he tries to tell himself he can anyway. 

When he wakes up in the morning, his alarm blaring for him to get ready to head to practice, he decides to skip again. He thinks of Iwaizumi telling him not to come to practice if he isn’t feeling well. He probably could, could stroll into the gym, apologize to Coach, and pretend everything is fine. Then he thinks about Iwaizumi avoiding him and decides against it. One more day. 

He’s still lying in bed, trying to fall back asleep when he hears a banging downstairs. Chooses to ignore it in favour of burrowing deeper into his covers. It stops after a few minutes, and Oikawa relaxes deeper into his mattress until he hears soft footsteps on the stairs, padding over to his door. He squeezes his eyes shut, turns to face the wall and pretends to be asleep as he hears the door crack open. Tries not to react to Iwaizumi softly calling his name. 

He doesn’t react, doesn’t move, doesn’t  _ breathe _ , as Iwaizumi softly closes the door, pads over to him. He feels the mattress shift as Iwa settles on the edge, feels the warmth of a hand not quite resting on him before it leaves again. 

When Iwaizumi sucks in a quick breath, Oikawa is prepared to be berated, but in the silence that follows he feels his body go cold as he remembers the petals scattered around his bed and on the floor that he hadn’t bothered cleaning up last night. He refuses to move, isn’t sure he could, just tries to wait Iwaizumi out.

But he knows him better than that, and Iwa knows him just as well.

“I know you’re not asleep Tooru.” 

He barely manages to hold back a whimper at the quiet roughness of Iwaizumi’s voice. Petulantly refuses to acknowledge him even though he’s been found out.

“Why didn’t you tell me  _ sooner _ ?” 

“I,” Oikawa whispers into the dark of the wall, pretends the crack in his voice is just from sleep, from lack of use, and not from the tears welling up. “I wanted to pretend.” He squeezes his eyes tighter at Iwaizumi’s pained noise, starts shaking as a rough hand starts carding through his hair. “Why are you  _ here _ , Iwa-chan. I… this isn’t  _ helping _ .” 

The hand freezes in his hair, but doesn’t leave. Oikawa thinks that in the silence that follows he can hear Iwaizumi’s heavy swallow. “I didn’t want to leave you here all alone.” 

Oikawa can’t quite bite back the sob that escapes him, shakes harder when Iwaizumi lies down next to him, wraps an arm around him over the blankets, holds him close as he cries. He doesn’t know how long they lie there, but Oikawa’s stopped crying, just hiccuping breaths escaping him. He shifts, turns to face Iwaizumi, face still half obscured by the blanket. It’s still dark in his room, the curtains pulled tight, but in the dark he can make out tears on Iwaizumi’s face too. Hates himself for still thinking he looks so handsome. He sniffles, rubbing his nose with the underside of his blanket and Iwaizumi’s face twists into a light grimace. Oikawa resists the urge to stick his tongue out at him. “We’re gonna be late for practice,” he says instead, voice muffled by the blankets.

Iwaizumi huffs, arm tightening around the mass of blankets with Oikawa somewhere in the middle. “And who’s fault is that?” 

Oikawa does stick his tongue out at him this time, wiggling his way out of his cocoon enough to be able to do it. He wiggles further, and Iwaizumi rolls off his bed, letting him sit up properly. “We don’t actually have to go.” 

Oikawa looks up at him, tries to breathe around the emotions swirling around in his stomach and throat, ends up just shrugging and looking away while he fiddles with the edges of the blankets. “We should though.” 

He’s looking away, doesn’t notice when Iwa takes a step closer to his bed, leans down and presses a soft kiss to his forehead. Oikawa’s breath stops, his body frozen except for the warmth of Iwaizumi’s chapped lips on his forehead when he murmurs “We’ll walk together,” against him before stepping back again.

Oikawa huffs, feels tears threaten him again and presses his palms to his eyes. “This is cruel Iwa-chan.”

He hears Iwaizumi stutter, clear his throat, pause for a moment before, “I’m sorry,” and that’s not really what Oikawa wants to hear. He turns to look up at him again, mouth open to say something when he continues, “I—I’m trying.” 

Oikawa pauses, lets his breathing settle, watches a light flush crawl up Iwaizumi’s cheeks but this time he maintains eye contact. His eyes are soft, honest, and Oikawa thinks he could get lost in them if he allowed himself to, so he just nods, slowly standing up and getting changed and ready.

After locking the door behind him, Iwaizumi slips his hand into Oikawa’s on his own, and when Oikawa’s breath hitches, he says nothing but squeezes lightly. They walk into the gym like that, only breaking apart to apologize for their tardiness, Iwaizumi saying he’s the reason they’re late, that Oikawa hasn’t been feeling great lately but that he thought he should come to practice anyway at the very least just to watch and help out the underclassmen.

They don’t talk about it for the rest of practice, and Oikawa does end up taking it easy, the emotional toll of the past few days weighing him down. But for the rest of the day Iwaizumi sticks by his side when he can, gentle, taking him to classes, walking home with him after school without practice. A part of him wants to ask him to stop, that this is only going to make him hurt worse in the end, but he thinks about what Iwaizumi had said that morning about  _ trying _ , and he decides to trust him. He takes Oikawa up on the offer of him hanging out in his room, and they spend the time talking and laughing and it’s almost  _ normal _ for the first time in a while. When Oikawa coughs up petals, Iwaizumi is there, sitting beside him, warm hand rubbing soothing circles into his back with an apologetic look on his face. They don’t talk about it, going back to what they had been doing before. 

It should hurt, he thinks, being so tantalizingly close to what he’s always wanted. How gentle Iwaizumi’s voice is with him now, how open and soft his face is, how if he squinted he could say he was being looked at with  _ adoration _ . With  _ love _ . And it does hurt, just a bit, to know that this might be temporary, and that he still doesn’t have a solution to his problem, but he chooses to enjoy it instead. To bask in the warmth of Iwaizumi, to push limits he wouldn’t have before when he flops down onto his lap and refuses to get up. All but  _ melts _ when a hand weaves its way into his hair. He thinks this should hurt, but he chooses to embrace it for now anyway.

He doesn’t realize at first when it gets easier to breathe, how slowly and incrementally it happens, because he’s still coughing up petals, but it’s less often. He spends weeks like this, testing the waters with Iwaizumi, pushing closer than he would have let himself before, telling himself that if he falls then that’s his fault but at every turn Iwaizumi is there to catch him. He breathes easier, and he doesn’t notice at first when the petals stop, how his throat only aches with the phantom of a flower trapped in there, doesn’t notice when it’s  _ gone _ . It’s another week before he does realize, when Iwaizumi kisses him, steals the breath from his lungs that he realizes there’s breath  _ to take _ . When they part he laughs, uncertain at first, looking down his nose with his forehead pressed against Iwaizumi’s. When he breathes a quiet, “ _ I love you Tooru _ ,” into the space between their lips he cries, holding on tightly, afraid for a moment that this is all just another dream. But Iwaizumi is there to catch him, lips chasing away the tears falling down his cheeks, whispers of  _ I love you, I love you, I love you _ , between each press of lips to his face. When he does wake up next, it’s in his own bed, Iwaizumi pressed against his back, head tucked into his shoulder, warm breath steady and  _ real _ , and for once Oikawa doesn’t choke around a flower in his throat when he whispers, “ _ I love you too _ ,” into the quiet of the morning. 


End file.
